


Parantheses

by fruitcakes



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 03:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10845363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitcakes/pseuds/fruitcakes
Summary: 5 times Soonyoung and Wonwoo want to kiss each other.And the 1.5 times that they do.





	Parantheses

**Author's Note:**

> for v

1.

Three minutes past midnight, Wonwoo enters the apartment swaying ever so slightly. He shuffles over to Soonyoung, who's seated on the couch.

Throwing his legs over the armrest and his head in Soonyoung's lap, Wonwoo plops down and makes himself comfortable. He can see Soonyoung’s double chin from here. It has been a long day; now he's finally home.

Soonyoung asks, “How was the party?” His eyes are glued to the television–watching some documentary about slicing Einstein’s brain open. (It's disgusting)

“It was good,” Wonwoo replies. Sticky with sweat, his hair is messy and standing up in all directions. Soonyoung runs his fingers through the same sticky, wild hair.

Soonyoung turns the volume down.

(They’re showing a brain steeped in clear liquid. Charming.)

More small talk to fill the silence.  
Then the big things.

“I thought of something today,” Wonwoo says with a small yawn.

“Yeah? What was that?”

Wonwoo has a moment of clarity. “Nah it'll make you uncomfortable,” he says, wringing his hands.

“It won't. I promise.” Soonyoung reassures, looking down at Wonwoo with a smile. It’s a sweet one that loosens all the knots in Wonwoo's heart and makes him spill it out.

Silence for three minutes. “I want to kiss you.”

Silence for three seconds. “Oh god, I'm really embarrassed. I'm sorry.” The mortification and regret that Wonwoo feels make him squirm around. It's familiar.

(Soonyoung had gone for a twelve-day trip with his friends. Without him, the apartment felt empty–devoid of his noisy complaining, of his loud, off-pitch singing. Without him, Wonwoo's day never seemed to end—it felt incomplete when he didn't have to bicker with Soonyoung over which contestant did the best on Masterchef.

Without him, Wonwoo realised just how much he needed and wanted Soonyoung. So twelve days later, when he came home, Wonwoo stood five feet from the door and greeted him with “I like you.”

One foot still out the door and all his luggage held in his hands, Soonyoung stood with his jaw slack and neither a thought in his head nor air in his chest. That was three months ago.)

Silence for what feels like forever. “Me too,” Soonyoung finally says.

Me too as in _I want to kiss you too_  
Or me too as in _I'm sorry too?_

2.

A windy day in the middle of August. Wonwoo is kneeling on the floor, all his work spread out in front of him. At a little past ten, Soonyoung appears at the door.

“What are you doing?” he asks, leaning on the doorframe. Fresh from the shower, his damp hair sticks to his forehead.

“Work,” Wonwoo replies distractedly.

More small talk follows.

Then, out of the blue, Soonyoung says, “I want to kiss you.”

It's surprising; Wonwoo is caught off guard, loses his balance and falls backward on the floor. There's an intense feeling of déjà vu.

(Wonwoo went into it completely blind, thinking ‘expectation is the root of all heartache’.

But Soonyoung threw him a real curve ball when the first word that left his mouth was “Don't.” He dropped his jacket on the floor near his feet, right next to where Wonwoo’s heart landed.)

“You should warn me before you say shit like that,” Wonwoo says from where he's lying on the floor. The hypocrisy of the statement is not lost on him.

With a groan, he pulls himself upright and looks at Soonyoung. The boy has his face schooled to perfect indifference and Wonwoo envies him for his composure. His own tends to crumble like old ruins in front of Soonyoung.

“But, I too… you know…” Wonwoo trails off, burning with embarrassment. He's sober and his words don't come as easily.

“I know,” Soonyoung says. He nods once and returns to his room.

3.

Fucking 2:26 am

The late summer night is warm and breezy, easy on the heart. Smothered in work and humidity, Wonwoo is stuck inside on a Saturday night. Less than ideal.

Wonwoo’s phone buzzes away insistently on the floor. Jarred from his thoughts, he slowly reaches for it.

_Soon-ah_

"Hello?"

"Wonwoo-yah! Why'd you take so long to pick up? I've been waiting for ages!" A voice hollers on the other end. Wonwoo winces and pulls the phone away from his ear.

"Are you drunk?" he asks, shuffling his papers. It's one assignment after another.

"Well not really...." It’s strange how he can almost hear the pout in Soonyoung’s voice. He smiles a little at that, god knows why.

"What's up? You 'kay?"

There is a pause so long that Wonwoo almost recognises the song playing in the background of the call.

"I'm just frustrated, is all."

Wonwoo furrows his brows in confusion. "Frustrated how? Isn't the party fun?" he asks.

A long drawn out sigh and then, "It's just, I just want to make out with someone, okay?" It comes out like a whine, makes Wonwoo laugh.

_What? What kind of frustration is that?_

Wonwoo thinks he’s good on slippery slopes. He chuckles lowly.

“Yeah?” he asks.

Soonyoung hums, his voice softening and losing its childish edge.

“But you're not here."

No he isn't; Wonwoo’s tumbling downhill. His heart speeds up in a way he's acquainted with.

(“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes glued to the floor, hoping it would alleviate the guilt. Initially, he felt light and airy–relieved–but as the night had worn on, regret cloaked everything.

Soonyoung watched his face for a few seconds. “Are you _fucking_ stupid?” he shouted, the question ricocheting off the walls and the ceiling in the stillness of the morning.

Wonwoo had flinched, looked up in alarm because _what did I miss?_

“If you think I don't like you, then you're dumb,” Soonyoung went on. His voice was just as loud as it had been before. It even sounded annoyed now that he had to explain it all, spell it out because Wonwoo is thick-headed like that.

“Because I do.”)

Soonyoung clicks his tongue. "Sad."

 _Tragic_ , Wonwoo thinks.

4.

Time: 2:03 am  
Venue: Near the fridge, Kitchen  
Agenda: Masters college applications

Wonwoo goes to the kitchen to get a drink of water. But he finds Soonyoung there, opening up a box of cupcakes they had bought earlier in the evening.

“What are you doing?” he asks, with a teasing lilt to his voice.

Soonyoung jumps slightly and pulls his shoulders together. It's an endearing gesture. It makes him look small.

“Um…” he trails off, hands smeared with chocolate icing. “Stress eating.”

Wonwoo scoffs, moves to the fridge. “What stress? You were playing video games the entire day,” he points out.

Soonyoung has the courtesy to look guilty. “Well, college applications.” He swallows a cupcake whole then continues, “it's too much work.”

Wonwoo opens the fridge and leans on the door. It's too hot in the apartment and the little bit of cool air on his bare legs is welcome.

He sighs and says, “Take it slow. With your credentials, you'll get in easy.” Wonwoo yawns, lazily reaching for a bottle of water.

Except he can't because Soonyoung’s arms are clasped around him, tying him down in every sense of the word. He suppresses the urge to run away.

(Jeon Wonwoo prided himself on his equanimity. The first time it fell apart, he was left bare and vulnerable. Soonyoung snagged that chance.

“Why not?” Wonwoo asked. He recognised the desperation in the question and despised it.

“Because, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung said, exasperated, “you're three years too young.” He ran a hand through his hair, making him look more haggard than he was.

Wonwoo knew he was approaching breakdown point but he kept going. “It's not like I'm a minor, Soonyoung. I'm old enough.”

Soonyoung exhaled shakily, plopped down on his bed. “It's not about legality, Wonwoo. It's…” He looked at the floor, as if searching for the right words in the cracks of the tiles. “It's about my own principles.”

At this Wonwoo snapped, because _principles_ is the wrong word to use when it concerns matters of the heart, and when you're talking to an 18 year old. “Just say you don't want to and let it be.”

Soonyoung stood up at the sting in Wonwoo's voice. “It's not that I don't want to,” he said softly.

In his chest, Wonwoo could feel all the confessions bubbling up. It felt like that would be the last chance to say them. He desperately wanted to let them all tumble out like a pathetic little waterfall of lovesick words.

But when Soonyoung wrapped him in a hug, all he wanted to do was run away.

Three am is the worst time for heartbreak.)

_Framed by the yellow glow of the fridge–all his stray hair highlighted and his glasses shining, Wonwoo looks cute. Soonyoung shelves away the want to tiptoe and press his lips to Wonwoo’s, settles for hugging him tight._

Wonwoo denies any increase in heartrate.

5.

Wonwoo distinctly remembers a text conversation he had with Soonyoung several months ago. Very casually, Soonyoung had said he wanted to get a tattoo. Conversationally, Wonwoo had asked where on his person he wanted one. Offhandedly, Soonyoung had said he wanted it on the left side of his ribcage. Consequently, Wonwoo's mouth had gone dry. The very thought of a beautiful piece of ink staining the gentle surface of Soonyoung's skin made his mind go a little haywire.

So you can imagine his state of mind when this night, while Wonwoo is brushing his teeth, Soonyoung appears at the bathroom door with his shirt raised halfway.

“Ta-da!” he announces.

There, on a little patch of skin on the right side of his ribcage, a vine is imprinted. With small, loopy flowers and dark leaves and stars scattered around, it curves with the planes of soft skin and disappears into the hem of his raised shirt.

Wonwoo moves forward as if in a trance, fingertips raised to touch the bumpy skin. It's healed a lot but not quite completely. So when he brushes it even with the most ghostly touch, Soonyoung hisses. Wonwoo's heart is beating erratically, painfully out of tune.

Jarred, he withdraws his fingers and looks up. “I’m really sorry.”

Soonyoung is jumping up and down with excitement. “Forget that. How does it look?”

(Soonyoung had to attend a cousin’s wedding. So he'd gone out and rented a tux and bought black socks just for the occasion. He'd dressed up and even put gel in his hair. When he stopped out, Wonwoo, who was on his way to class, halted in his tracks. If he were a car, you'd have heard the screech of brakes.

But all Wonwoo could hear was the blood rushing to his face. Soonyoung looked heart-achingly handsome.

“Is it okay?” Soonyoung asked, tugging on the lapels of his jacket.

Among all the words Wonwoo had lined up, he chose the easiest one to say, “perfect.”)

“It looks really nice. It's…. it's very you,” Wonwoo says.

Soonyoung grins. “Thank you.” He's still holding his shirt. “Do you like it?” He bites his lower lip, letting it go at the same time as he sets his shirt down when Wonwoo doesn't reply for a few seconds.

(Soonyoung had grinned. But something in Wonwoo's demeanour had made him stop, and carefully walk forward. In a moment of intense weakness, he had raised his hand and placed it on Wonwoo's cheek, let the fingers trail across the clean skin and the thumb stroke the softness. It felt like an apology.)

“It's pretty.” Wonwoo answers with a half-hearted smile.

+0.5

Near the end of spring, or the beginning of summer, acceptance letters start coming in. The Plan C ones, the backup ones and then the okay ones. Thirteen days into April, comes the dream one.

That day, Soonyoung cannot be tamed. He jumps around the apartment, bubbling with excitement and energy, waiting for Wonwoo to come home so he can tell him the good news as soon as he takes one step in.

And that's exactly what he does. He launches himself at the boy with all the zeal of a puppy and none of his usual restraint, tackles him in a hug. “I got in!” he shouts at the hallway, over Wonwoo's shoulder.

“I knew it!” Wonwoo whoops, lifts Soonyoung and spins him around, nudging the door closed so they can have their private little moment of happiness. The unbridled joy in Soonyoung's being spills over and into Wonwoo; they're both a giggling mess.

“I'm so happy right now I could kiss you!” Soonyoung gushes, waving the letter in the air, fluttering it like a bird.

“You should,” Wonwoo says with a grin.

In the heat of the moment, or so Wonwoo thinks, Soonyoung giggles and reaches up to press a big, wet kiss on his cheek. It leaves an imprint of saliva and sounds with a gross smack. All of that, and it is still heartfelt.

  
+1.5

Late July, late evening.

The apartment door opens and Soonyoung enters. “Hey,” he lethargically throws the greeting Wonwoo’s way.

“What's up?”

“Just finished up the visa stuff.”

 _Oh, right,_ Wonwoo thinks but doesn't say. He just nods, makes peace yet again with the fact that Soonyoung is headed off to the US. Probably forever.

Late July, late night.

Wonwoo is lying in bed scrolling through post after post on instagram of happy people, cute dogs, more happy people. His door opens with an ominous creek.

“Wonwoo?”

He hums and cranes his neck to look at the doorway. Soonyoung is standing there holding a pillow in his arms, silhouette highlighted by the light from the hallway.

“The fan in my room stopped working. Mind if I sleep here?”

The couch is there, of course, but Wonwoo knows how uncomfortable it is.

“No, it's fine. Come on,” he replies.

With a lot of annoying shuffling and shifting, Soonyoung finally settles in. Wonwoo turns his face away so he doesn't have to see the way the moonlight settles on the tips of Soonyoung’s lashes, the round curve of his nose, his cupid’s bow.

In such close vicinity, all fleeting thoughts are amplified tenfold and the rush of blood in Wonwoo's ears is overwhelming.

“When are you leaving?” he asks. He already knows. 15th August.

“15th August.”

“Will you visit in December?”

“I don't think so. The tickets are too expensive.” Soonyoung replies and yawns.

More irrelevant things. Lots of irrelevant talk.

When it nears 3 am and all of Wonwoo's inhibitions have been washed away with midnight, he turns to face Soonyoung, flings an arm around his middle and gets closer. “I'll miss you,” he says.

Soonyoung comes closer too and turns to face Wonwoo. “Me too,” he says.

(When it was decided that Soonyoung would go to the US to study, he thought about all the exciting things he would get to see. As the time for his departure neared, he started thinking about all the things he would miss—home, parents, street food at 3 am with his college friends. He knew he would miss Wonwoo too, miss asking him about his day, what he did, what he ate.

The three years they lived together, their mundane conversations are the things that stuck with Soonyoung the most.)

Sometime during the next second, Wonwoo’s life splits into two. He now sees the timeline of his existence as ‘before kissing Soonyoung’ and ‘after kissing soonyoung’. That's how much of a revelation it is.

Of all the kisses they could have had—tasting of alcohol, of chocolate, messy ones, happy ones—they choose this one. This kiss with all the pining of the months gone by and the longing of the months to come.

Ever so slowly, Soonyoung deepens the kiss. He kisses like he has all the time in the world. And Wonwoo is okay with that. Wonwoo is okay with whatever Soonyoung gives.

(“What do you want, Wonwoo?” Soonyoung asked. He was sitting too close for comfort, all up in Wonwoo's space, far too much at ease for such a conversation.

“I want whatever you want,” Wonwoo replied. It sounded like a lot of nonsense, but it was actually honest.

Soonyoung sighed. Twining his fingers together, he looked down. “I want to never hurt you.”)

After a long while, they both finally drift off. There's an unspoken agreement somewhere that the kiss. was a one-time thing.

Late July, early morning. Wonwoo lets go.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Salma (ao3 user maeumso) for all her help. If it weren't for you ma, this never would have taken shape at all. So thank you, for listening to me rambling at 3 am, and for beta-reading this.


End file.
